Children's Playground
by dhracory
Summary: What would happen if the object of Voldemort's desire was someone that everyone believed he wanted dead? Full summary inside...
1. Introduction

A Brief Introduction

**Author(s):**dhracory and zienna666

**Pairings:** Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione(limited), Voldemort/Harry(against will), Voldemort/Ashley*, Voldemort/Shastel*, Lucius/Ashley*,Lucius/Shastel*, Ashley**, Ashley*/Draco, Narcissa/Voldemort(flashback), Narcissa/Lucius(against will)… There are actually too many to list all of them… but you get the idea. (Characters with * are original characters created for the story and have no role in the Harry Potter books.)

**Rating:** PG13 in some places to NC-17 in others.

**Summary:** What would happen if the object of Voldemort's desire was someone that everyone believed he wanted dead? What if two young girls were taken from a park in Detroit and forced into a life of degradation? What if the infamous boy-who-lived was romantically linked to Draco Malfoy? Would it really be a big deal if everyone was a member of the darkness? In Children's Playground, anything and everything is possible, especially when the world is so vulnerable to its magical releases.

**Disclaimer:**This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. (This will not be posted at the start of every chapter…it would be irritating and redundant. We know that you know that we don't own the material. If we did, we sure wouldn't be here writing this piece, but instead, probably enjoying our life somewhere other than where we are. Thanks.)

The original story has well over 150 pages and 70,000+ words… This version is sure to be much longer. We hope you enjoy.


	2. Updates

Children's Playground

A word from the authors:

Ok, so it has been almost seven years since I started the infamous Children's Playground with one of my best friends back in 10th grade of high school. I was 16 and my writing was atrocious back then… it ALL was. I can't believe it now, when I look back, how bad it was. I mean seriously, with the really bad spelling and grammar mistakes and not to mention the dialogue… I mean, how did I pass my classes writing like that?

So, now, in my glorious college days, I got to reading the story once again. I was in the process of sharing it with a friend when it sparked that it was bad… and I mean really bad… so… here's the deal.

Over the years of writing Children's Playground I have developed quite a fan base… not as much as I had ever hoped I would get, but enough to satisfy me that someone was enjoying my work. In that sense, I have decided, alongside my new co-author, that the story was to be taken down and rewritten. All 25 chapters of it, or whatever it was that was there.

We really want to continue the story, but we are ultimately ashamed of the state that it is in, both being big into writing and all. I myself am an English major, and the first chapters of the story made me cringe something fierce.

So, to all of you loyal fans out there, and I know there are a few of you still hiding amongst the shadows of that alleyway in Detroit, please bear with us. The story, once revised, will be thrown back up. It'll probably go up chapter by chapter as well, just like before. We encourage you, if you have been sticking with us, to reread the story once it goes back up as there will probably be a lot of changes. We hope you all understand our choice in this and we cannot wait to see our fan base increase as it did before.

Thanks to all of our fans. Children's Playground would not exist without you.


	3. Children's Playground Rulebook

CHAPTER ONE WILL FOLLOW ON 5/3/10 or 5/4/10

Children's Playground Rule Book

1) Every evil villain must have a young girl or two as slaves that can do various tasks; cooking, cleaning, complaining, and banging.

2) Whenever an adult evil villain cannot kill a child, the answer must be; he is a pedophile.

3) To make evil villain more evil, have him do obscene things to his servant girls.

4) Should invite posse over to help "punish" servant girls.

5) Said posse should thus be punished themselves for "punishing" said servant girls. (Counterproductive and hypocritical yes, we know.)

6) At least one girl must enjoy rules #3-5.

7) Slave girls are forced to do "dirty work". (Not limited to cleaning spooge off walls, dishes, laundry and various other, "clean, menial tasks)

8) Someone should end up in sewer (# 6). Actually, everyone at some point should end up in the sewers. If one person is suffering, they all must suffer.

9) If there are 2 Queers + a single, abandoned hallway not to mention a school full of magic then in the mind of the authors and half a dozen fan girls we have 3 1/4 "thumbs" up.

10) In this story and only this story, no one should know about rule #9, however, the author has full credibility in saying that she knows and understands every sordid and underlining aspect of the story, without so much as a warning to anyone but herself.

11) By the end of the story, rule # 10, must be broken, and not just broken, but squashed, stamped, and stampeded on, until a small child happens to wander by with firecrackers and blow it to pieces…. Then according to my illustrious coauthor… there must be even more mayhem done on said rule, including but not limited to, ejaculation, eruption of flames, and or a rabid dog mauling it to pieces. We hope you are not offended.

12) One of said girls from rule # 1, should partake in heavy consumptions of vodka. This girl is one with a sharp tongue, shopping and the wearing of skirts. As she is almost completely modeled after the author, she shall know of every intimate detail of every other character other than her own being.

13) The other girl from rule # 1, must also love vodka, but also harder liquors including but not limited to, muggle and wizarding brands alike, such as fire whiskey, rum, and a brew concocted by Hagrid to tame his half-brother Grawp. It is 500 proof and can take the rust off a tin roof. She is bitter, compulsive, and a sarcastic bitch who has developed Stockholm Syndrome with her captives.

666) Yes, I know this doesn't fit here, but as for this rule, it pertains to a character that is so evil and diabolical that the number just seemed to fit. Now you all must be wondering, who could be so horrid to fill the role behind that number… well, let's just say my coauthor, who the character is modeled after, will show herself in due time. Until then, do not ask question, do not pass go, do not collect the promised amount of 5,248.49 that was promised at the start of this story. Didn't see the promise… oh well… then never mind.

14) SADLY, IN THIS SORDID TALE OF CONFUSION, SARCASTIC BANTER, AND MORBID WONDERS, THERE MUST BE AT LEAST ONE VIRGIN, and no… she is not one of the girls from rule 1. Obviously.

15) In this tale, the author needs to learn to remove caps before she types… See rule 14

16) So now, for this rule, one of the friends, rather the number two of the evil villain from rules 1 and 4, should have a son from rule # 9 who is romantically linked to the obsession of the villain in rule # 1, who is involved in rule #10 whose father discovers, through word of mouth of the girls in rules # 1-3 that his son is involved in rule # 11.

17.) This story must have a complicated lineage and family tree incorporated into it, thus making the story more confusing than ever before. (we may or not provide you with that at some point. Just so you know…)

18) A successful Ashley/Sheila, (and I will include Shastel's name here as well as the original idea was hers.) story must have lots and lots and lots, and then after there's too much, there must be more of rule # 9 until everyone grows tired of it, then you need a pinch of rule # 16, until rule # 11 kicks in. ( This rule has stayed the same through numerous updates due to the authors laziness in changing it.)

Rule number 19, which was previously rule number 15, has been taken out back, beaten, molested, raped, and left for dead, until it was found by two girl scouts peddling cocaine laced thin mints and shortbread cookies, in which after buying, the rule discovered that he loved disco music and the opera and chose to strut around in a tight red, leather speedo as if he had forgotten his memory like Eric from TrueBloods. Yes, I know this is quite confusing, but let's just say, for the sake of the reader, that rule 19/15 is now disbanded and owned by the Disney Corporation. Thank you for understanding.

20) We really don't care how or when or why, but every character in this story must suffer either death or bad hair day.

21) The panties of the girl in rule # 12, should be passed around to EVERY male character within the chapters of this story. No if, ands, or buts about it.

22) The last rule in our arsenal for now, and yes, we will update this as the story goes on, is that the virgin that we previously stated must be in the story… well… they have to get laid. Not an option.

23) Ok, so I lied, the last official rule, is that you, as a reader, must always pay attention to the rules, read the story with an open mind, and review like crazy. If not, we will find you, and we will lock you in a small room with our roommate… Don't see the trauma… good for now… just do as we say… and we promise you that you won't.


	4. Let us tell you a tale

**(This opening section constitutes as a way of introducing the authors and the non-Harry Potter characters that appear in this story.)**

**Behind the Scenes in an Upstairs Bedroom of the Riddle Manor**

A young girl sits at a desk and lifts her head when the reader opens the book that lay spread out on her bed. She smiles a bright, warm smile at the reader. Her eyes sparkle intensely, but she is harboring a lot of raw emotions.

"I am Ashley. You should all know me as that anyway, unless of course this is your first time venturing into the world of Children's Playground." She speaks; still smiling warmly at you as she gestures to a second figure sprawled out in a large, overstuffed chair in the corner of the room. "Oh her, that's Shastel. I should really introduce her as the creator of the story. It was her brilliant idea after all."

The second girl looked up, flicked her dark hair from her eyes and shot a look at Ashley. "Why must you always announce that I was the one who came up with the story? Never mind that… as it's your fault anyway for bringing up all those other stories that you read on that fan fiction site… Your sense of literature is so sick and twisted."

Ashley smiled again, rolling her eyes at Shastel. "First of all, of course I must bring it up over and over again… it was your idea after all. Second of all, your mind is just as twisted as mind, if not worse than mind. Lastly, you didn't have to actually read the other stories… just because I told you about them." Ashley makes to slam the bedroom door shut, hoping to not wake the man downstairs, but by the time she reaches the door, it is too late and a man in a black, billowy cloak leans against the door jam, taking both girls in. Ashley sighs softly as Shastel rolls her eyes.

"What is going on in here…? I thought you two were telling the reader here a story? I don't need to punish one of you do I?" the man said in a low, raspy voice.

Ashley rolled her eyes this time and made to move toward her bed. She flashed the man her pearly white grin over her shoulder. "Oh Voldie, calm down. Don't get your panties in a bunch. We know damn well that you're only this high-strung because you can't have the one you most desire… Isn't that right Shastel?" Ashley laughed as she picked up a book off the bed. "Of course, he's with Draco if I recall correctly." 

Shastel looked up at Ashley with a look of terror on her face that mimicked the shock on Voldemort's face. "Wait… what?" Shastel asked, her eyes never leaving Ashley's face.

"What," Ashley said. She glances at the reader with a smile, shaking her head lightly as she laughs a sweet, funny laugh. "I guess I forgot to tell them both that part. Oh well, no harm done right?"

Voldemort moved slowly toward Ashley, his face scrunched up so tightly that the veins in his forehead looked as though they might explode from his head. "That 'little' detail, is not exactly little, my dear, dear girl. That is catastrophic news…"

Ashley lets out a little yelp as Voldemort grabs her wrist, forcing her arm around with such force; she is pressed tightly against his body. "Ok, ok, I am so, so sorry for not mentioning it earlier. What would have me do to make up for it… aside from the usual?" Ashley eyes the reader at this point, looking to them for guidance. "I highly suggest that you all retreat into the prologue and refrain from watching or listening to anything more that is said in this opening scene. We promise that you are in for a treat."

Voldemort pulled Ashley from her stance in the middle of the room and out the door and down the set of stairs to his own room on the fourth floor. Through the paper thin walls, moans, screams, and pleas are heard by the ears of Shastel who just rolls her eyes and looks to the reader with boredom.

"While Ashley suffers downstairs… I suppose I could start the story. It all starts in the basement of this very house…"


	5. Prologue: It Starts in the Basement

A/N" I had no idea that this story was going to be rewritten in this manner. I have greatly improved in the writing department since my last journey with this tale, but I am still amazed at my ability to take four paragraphs and turn it into six pages. Please review if you like the story… and Zienna, while I appreciate your feedback… it is not required. You can just come in the room and tell me what is good and bad. Thanks everyone.

Prologue: Our Story Starts in the Basement

A book is opened… the pages turning slowly… a voice is heard…

"Please pay attention. I won't repeat myself."

…….

There were dark clouds overhead. Loud claps of thunder called out from somewhere in the distance, and silvery streaks of lighting lit up the darkening void that was the sky. In the distance somewhere, hidden amongst tall, overgrown bushes and trees, sat a decrepit old house. It stood in shambles overlooking the village below. Its windows had almost been fully boarded up, save a few near the top of the large manor. There were tiles missing from the roof, its peaks bear and lifeless except the shadowy figures of crows that clung to the lifeless timbers. Thick vines and ivy covered its exterior, leading the once glorious manor to its rundown demise. All in all, not many people dared to venture anywhere near the house, aside from a sole too old to care in the form of a windowed elderly woman, who in her own right, was strange enough.

They called this place the Riddle House.

Now, while this tale takes place here… it is within its walls that the true action shall begin, but please, give me a moment to fill you in on something first.

While the outside world saw this house as being just another scary facet of their little worlds, they would have no idea the horrors that lie within. No single soul ever dared to enter this old house, as not one who did, ever returned from the rotting, dust covered nightmares that were inside. Sure, law officials would be sent, but when they returned, there was something different about them, almost as though they hadn't a clue that they had even been out to the old house in the first place.

Now this is not what I wanted to tell you before we really get into the story. What I should warn you about, is that this tale is not for the weak at heart and those who have pacemakers, have or are prone to seizures and the like, or have been known to have heart complications, should probably not be following along. Now, here's the thing… if you'll just follow me on inside…

Like I said, the inside of this manor was once quite grand, but now, the mold and dust is all that fills this old place. There are signs of life, few and many alike, unexpected of course to those who don't already know this tale, but what is present is not in the best of conditions. As you enter, you are faced with a long, narrow hallway. If you follow the hallway some five feet, you will reach an opening that leads to a large, open living room. Thick coverings of dust litter every surface, even after the futile cleaning attempts of those within the structure. As soon as you enter this room, you are faced with two sets of stairs, one to your right and quite apparent, it's stone steps leading to an upper level that at the moment appears quite dark and lifeless.

You'll see that later as the room we need for this part of the story being through the door on your left, concealed by a thick wooden door. A small slot resembling a mail shoot has been cut in the wood. I advise you… don't open the slot. You won't see anything but darkness. No, to get the extremes of this story, you'll need to venture down below. Do yourself a favor, don't be caught…

I cannot advise you will be safe once down there.

……

The lighting is dim but the large basement of the manor, added on only recently, is quite empty. The walls are covered with a thick moss and an unknown white substance. Actually, those who have heard this tale before know very much so what it is, but please don't ruin it for the newcomers. Now, plastered amongst the moss and the scum, littering the dust and coating the grim, were what appeared to photographs, news clippings, and the like, the occupant the same in every picture.

A boy waving to the nearly dark room…

A boy flying around a quidditch pitch, a smile plastered across his face, the snitch clutched in his long fingers…

A boy standing with a young man and woman, there arms around each other like they didn't have a care in the world…

There were thousands of pictures, all of this nature.

One name loomed from the headlines of the clippings…

One name stood screaming at the top of every photograph…

Just one name…

Harry Potter.

……

From here on out, I advise you do not get in the way and stay hidden in the shadows…

……

The stairs are made of wood, sturdy though so creaking is minimal. The basement is silent. There is but one light in the room, playing attribute to the dimness. It hangs from the ceiling, swaying gently from an unseen draft in the room.

Blame it on the opening of the door above. Be glad the occupant of the room doesn't notice…

He sits in the middle of the room, his body slumped over in a worn high backed chair, the fabric loose and decaying in the damp basement. A snake is wrapped neatly around the base of the chair, it looks up at the intruder in the room, but says silent and unmoving. After a moment, it curls itself back up, listening to the breathing of her master in the chair above her.

A bony, pale white hand moved to a bare, similarly pale, bald head. The fingers moved carelessly across the smooth skin there and a small groan escaped parched lips. As the solitary figure lifted his gaze from the floor, he adverted them, scanning the span of pictures that covered the walls. They were bloodshot but they sparkled with unfathomable admiration and desire at the images splayed out before him. His mouth just about watered. He groaned again.

His voice was quiet when he finally pressed his fingers back to his temple, the pulsating throb that racked his head filling him up.

"Pathetic…Lord Voldemort, weak at the knees for an adolescent boy. How truly and deeply… pathetic." He groaned again, running his long tongue along his lower lips as his eyes did a 180 over one of the nearest pictures.

These thoughts were going to drive him insane.

The impurest of ideas...

The torturing agony of what he wished…

No… longed to do.

It was maddening.

He wasn't even sure why he allowed himself to let these emptions grown on him like they did. He didn't know why he had fallen so in love with these twisted, sorid thoughts that filled his head, when they disgusted him to his very core.

He just didn't understand it…

"I am the Dark lord of the bloody wizard world and I find myself wanking to the image of a teenage boy for Merlin's sake…." He groaned again as the image filled his already morbid attention span. "I cannot allow myself to continue in this manner."

He couldn't eat… although alcohol consumption was easy.

He couldn't sleep… but mindless sex with his unwilling servants was enough to have him crashing for at least a few hours.

His bones ached and his head throbbed with tension and stress… which his undermining lackeys so willing consumed the brunt of.

This was getting ridiculous.

He stood from his chair slowly, his brittle bones snapping and cracking as though he was well over a hundred years old and not the 70 some years that he was to be turning. He paced the room carefully, his eyes still scanning across the photos. His bare feet made soft slapping sounds on the cold stone foundation that made up the floor. He had shed his tattered robes on the back of the chair, his thin, pale body covered with what appeared to be black slacks. His chest was bear, the dim lighting glistened off of him.

The life was slowly and deliberately being sucked from his already dark and lifeless soul…

He had to find a solution out of this…

……

Now, before I continue, I am going to clear this up just for those who may be lost. Although, I can't see how you could be.

Tom Riddle has risen again and in his years of being a lifeless blob of nothingness, one truth has dawned on him…

The most frightening of all truths for a man like Tom Riddle…

He is in love with a boy… young and naïve…

A boy that he is supposed to want dead…

Wrap your head around that for a moment and remember to stay in the shadows and awy from the staircase…

……..

The man in the room stopped dead in front of the chair he had just risen from, his eyes dropping to the floor in an almost defeated manner. He wasn't sure what to do for a moment and he ran his fingers along his weary eyes.

"Why must the world continue to believe that I want to kill him? Is it because I killed his parents? Is it because I have murdered endlessly just so I could be near him? Is it because I threaten every day and swear on my life that I will get to him in some way?" He paused momentarily, his breath evening out slowly.

"What would the world have me do…? Admit it…?" he closed his eyes softly and sunk back into the chair. He shook his head, groaning into his hands as they found their way to his face. He massaged his weary temples, pounding and pulsing much like other parts of his body.

Suddenly, he stood, anger filling his voice…

…….

Sorry, should have warned you that that could happen at any time.

Calm down; don't let him hear you…

……

The dark lord lifted his eyes. His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides. He took a deep, uneven breath and turned his head, his eyes facing toward the shadows. He is unmoving…

"No… not dead… can't admit it… can't tell… I just… I just…"

He stutters for only a second longer, his eyes hungry and filled with lust and mad driven desire.

"I want him."

An odd, creepy grin fills his face, reaching from one ear to the next. He runs his fingers over the pictures with love and admiration.

"The dark lord always gets what he wants and I will have what I want…"

…….

He's getting ready to leave now… I know this. I advise you, Stay In The Shadows…

…….

Tom Riddle.

Voldemort.

He knows what he wants, and he knows he can get it with the right methods.

He grabs his tattered robes off the chair, leaning against it for support. He wraps it around himself with a flourish, easing his long, slender, pale arms though the sleeves. He adjusts the collar, his hands working up the buttons of the robes quickly thereafter. With a glance to the snake on the floor, he leaves her snuggled up in the shadows as he heads for the stairs, the dark robes billowing out behind him.

His hands snake along the railing. His bare feet are soundless as he climbs the wooden planks that are the stairs. In just a moment or two longer, his hands hit the doorknob, but he stills at the top of the stairs for a moment. He glances back down.

"I always get my way, one way or another…"

His wicked smile light up the staircase easily spotted without the aid of the light from below.

He knows you're here, and he welcomes you.

He wants you to observe in his tale.

He wants you to know what he went through.

……

The door is opened suddenly and a heavy aroma is filling the air. A mixture of cinnamon and apples. Someone is baking above.

The light that surrounds the basement goes out, just as the door slams shut, enveloping the room into darkness.


	6. Discovering the Reasons

A/N: Quick not for you all. One page of back and forth script dialogue, seven pages. Word Count: 3459. Could have been longer, but I got tired. So I hope you all enjoy.

**Discovering the Reasons**

_Now, I know you must be wondering by this point, what crazy, demented dream-like state have you fallen into that would you lead you to a man such as the one you saw earlier in the basement? I assure you, if he scared you... you are only going to become a paranoid schizophrenic before we are done with this tale. This story should not be taken lightly, as it could inevitably save millions of lives in the near fu__ture. OK, so maybe not a million... but one or two at most. I guess that is just another one of many facets that I have come to learn in this hell-hole. _

_ Pathological Liar suits me well._

_If you get lost at anytime, please back up and read again. I am not going to make myself available for repeat performances, although I suppose if you back up I am repeating, although you are forced to do all the work and read it yourself instead of me narrating it for you. _

_ OK, so I guess that makes no sense at all, but then there is the point..._

_We want you to be confused... so on with the next chapter in our little story for all of you. Hope you enjoy it, and remember, I hate repeating myself..._

The darkness of the hallway loomed out before her. Steady thuds of a bed hitting the wall in a room somewhere nearby ricocheted off the walls. The rhythm was of a pulsing variety, heeding decibel levels that seemed impossible from a bed alone, but the occupants had a lot of...gusto, especially since one was not exactly a willing participant. She had grown to accept her fate however.

Stockholm Syndrome.

That is what the online help people describe it as when the information was pressed for. When the need to understand was so great, that nothing could surpass the longing desire to know just why escape never became a major option over time.

It wasn't that the drive to go home wasn't there, really, because it was longed for more than anything else, but it had turned into the rarest of occasions and at the very least, the pressing inclination to retreat from the darkening abyss of the house was a matter of pure fantasy. This is why acceptance had become so easy.

There was always food, if not five star, nutritious meals, but enough to make the emptiest stomachs feel full. Clothes were always provided, even when tantrums were thrown and fits were waged over the attire and new things were bought to end the screams and the bitter cat fights amongst two very different people. Sometimes hover, these clothes provided little security, regardless of the one's wearing them and their decisions.

The existence of fear would never have been announced to anyone outside an inner circle wound so tight, formed from the insecurities that came with kidnapped victims. It was a wonder why they were even kept alive...

The bed springs creak under the heavy weight of the objects hovering above it. Their bodies forming as one. The heavy grunts and groans drifted much further than the door, letting the signs of the unwanted pleasures seep through the cracks caused from careless maneuvers with figures not desiring, trying to move away, not in the mood at all to play the game of the victim for the third time since noon.

He couldn't even bother with a silencing charm.

She sat for a while, her jet black hair pulled back in a wispy ponytail on the top of her head. She was fiddling with a stick of eyeliner and a compact mirror, letting the dark charcoal color glide beneath her eyes as she reapplied the makeup for the second time that day. She may be held captive, but she was going to look herself while almost all her freewill was taken from her, little by little.

She gave the door a sidelong glance. Smaller pitched moans had now found their resonance, and it was at this point that she knew that the unwilling body had finally given in to the pleasures that were to be given with every forceful thrust. It was no longer rape... the participant had become willing, and we all know how that saying goes.

_And since I don't want to be committed for posting anything to do with pedophilia, I will turn the story over to Shastel, with whom, and I can assure you, that you will probably not be the safest with. She has tendencies to be volatile and aggressive... _

_ Shit, she heard me... I'm outta here. Good luck._

Shastel shook her head, flipping off the invisible narrator as she continues to cower in the corner, pretending that she doesn't exist. She will be back, just wait and see. She then turns her attention toward the reader, gesturing for them to take up the seat next to her on the sofa. She runs her hands over the length of her jeans, ragged and ripped to perfection... and not in the way that those sissy girls do, thing they are all cool because they have the killer jeans with rips. Hers were made with battery acid a little bit of magic.

_ OK, wait... I hope that at least this much you do know, even if you have never read Children's Playground before, that this story evokes abilities that many people call magic...Well, OK, so it IS magic... and anyway, if you did not know this coming in to the story, then you are all massively fucked up in the head... hmmm. I think that may very well be the first curse word in the story. YAY!_

_ Anyway..._

Shastel eyes the narrator with an evil glare and turns her attention back to the reader. She lets out an annoyed sigh before she brushes her hair from her eyes and then removes the ponytail and replaces it again, only this time higher, so the hair swings more freely at the back of her neck.

"So, amazingly, you have managed to stick it through... either that or you are crazy with no hopes for any morally pure thoughts for the rest of your life. Once you have actually read through this story, you won't be likely to 100% forget it. I can assure you." Shastel rolled her eyes again as another loud chorus of moans and squeals came from the room behind her.

And indeed the noises grew to a level of what made it sound like a climax was fast approaching, and never before would anyone ever presume that the man within even once took anything absurd like a muggle 'Viagra' pill... and magic was not something he was willing performed on his own equipment. There was a loud pause as the pitches of the grunting came on, almost feverish and then there was a low guttural sound, almost like a growling before the room fell silent.

Shastel sighed softly, still fiddling with her eyeliner. "It's been over three hours. I am amazed that he even has that much stamina in him at his age. You might want to hide over there until we figure out if he will be coming out. I still don't know if it's a good idea that he physically see you in his house, even if he knows your here. Just listen... you'll be fine."

Minutes pass and Shastel resumes her lingering in the living room. She reaches down to the coffee table, picks up a newspaper from the dust covered surface, and blows away cobwebs. The pictures move across the page, something that once would have made her jump, now just a normal facet of her life here at the Riddle House.

A few more minutes pass by without a single sound coming from that back room. There is only silence and it lingers so sharply... focusing with such intent on the coldness that it brought to the room. Shastel happily welcomed the lack of noise. If it wasn't one thing, like the sounds that were just heard a few minutes ago, it was the whines of the men in this house. Although they were the one that had brought them here, they did most of the whining.

_After a half hour passes, the large door behind the sofa opens, revealing a startling blonde girl. Oh wait, you already know her... sorry. _

Anyway, so out bounces Ashley...well no, that isn't the right word. It was more like she floundered from the room, her hair swinging behind her in her freshly made ponytail. She was just finishing securing the band around her thick hair when she noticed Shastel and you my dear friend sitting on the couch. She smiles deviously. Her shirt has yet to be done up and the blue lacy bra peeks out from underneath. Swooping down just outside the door, she lifts her denim jeans from where they were discarded three hours earlier.

"Shut the door, Ashley."

_If you look closely, you can the illustrious man from the earlier chapters, standing stark naked before a large window. He appeared to be in deep thought, the now setting sun making the room glimmer in shadows. Don't be scared, he remembers that you are here, and won't touch you as long you remember to not intervene with anything. Take one last quick look..._

Ashley did as she was instructed and let the door slam. Her once cheery disposition seemed to linger a little farther behind her at being told what to do. She hated having to constantly obey and listen, but when she didn't, it only made matters worse. Much like Shastel, her symptoms of SS were quite apparent and prevented her from escape. She took the small hallway that separated the living room from the bedroom in quick stride, moving with great ease. Extending her long legs up and over the back of the couch, she landed amongst the dust with a soft thud.

"God, he really irritates me. He thinks that once he starts he has all the liberties to keep going until he has had enough. No compassion for how I feel."

Shastel shook her head and let her eyes advert their gaze to Ashley. "Why must you talk about it all the time? Do you ever hear me discussing what occurs in those rooms?"

It was a simple enough question, but Ashley automatically ignored it. Her bright green eyes glanced around the room, took in the messy state that was just about everything around them and sighed. It never seemed to be any cleaner regardless of how much she tried, and she was usually the only one to do so. Disregarding the mess, she turned her attention back to Shastel with a twisted little smile.

"Well, if you must know, I think it is vital for _everyone_ to know what goes on. Maybe it will stop things like this from happening to other people." Although, even as the words escaped her lips she laughed at the prospect. If anything, part of this story might just offend someone or make someone relapse to memories of times when they suffered from things like this. She chuckled again. "How about I tell you everything that he did after he pulled me from upstairs? Well, let me see, first he did that one thing with his tong..." Ashley started without even waiting for Shastel to answer, however she was quickly interrupted by a hand clamping down over her mouth.

_Now my dear reader, I know you must be dying to know what exactly is done with to these two girls in the privacy of those two rooms across the hall. Even now, in the back of your head, you have an inkling, a deep personal regret that you have even pushed yourself this far into the lives of Ashley and Shastel, but chances are if you have made it this far in, you are going to be here for a long time... Anyway, it's best not to question the motives of Voldemort. Everything will play out soon enough, but by that point, you won't even care... you will just keep wondering what will happen next... oh yeah sorry, back to Ashley. I get off topic sometimes so just go ahead and go back to them now..._

Now, Ashley let her eyes wander upward and they almost instantly collided with the blazing red ones of the man that she had just been trapped by in the back bedroom. Voldemort. His snake-like eyes glared at her with a deep irritation and as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out with a soft hiss that resembled a lisp, although no one dared tell him so. His comment was directed toward Ashley and her alone.

"Now my dear girl. Have you not learned a single thing in the last three hours of our time together?"

Ashley rolled her eyes, mumbling something that sounded something much like "Try six years."

Voldemort's hold on Ashley's mouth became more persistent and domineering as he added the additional yank on her ponytail, a move that would only piss Ashley off. "I would to have to give you a refresher course in obedience so soon after your last lesson. So, we must behave ourselves, is that understood?"

Ashley merely shrugged her shoulders, a move that got her ponytail a sharp yank and she nodded her head in dismay, only planning to later get her revenge. Shastel chuckled under her breath.

"Good girl," he said simply, letting Ashley's hair go so abruptly that it was like he had touched something that burned his fingers. "And you," he said addressing Shastel at this point, "hold your tongue or you will learn everything that she just did."

With that, he said nothing more other than glance around the room, his eyes falling along the dust and grime that was the usual in his home. He had other things to be bothered with than cleaning. He rolled his eyes and stalked off back across the hall and let the door slam shut behind him. You could hear the bed springs creak on his old bed and then silence.

_Now before we continue, I need to clarify something to you, a special thing about Ashley and Shastel that you must know, but it's really only important if you have not already caught on to the details of the reason that they are here in the first place. You see, Ashley and Shastel were kidnapped when they were only 10, by Voldemort. I mean, it is pretty obvious and all that, but in case you are a bit slow and have yet to understand that, there it is... plain and simple. The specific information on them will be explained later though... but there I go again, digressing from the story... just ignore me if you know these things and move on to the rest of the story..._

"Go he is such a prick." Shastel said the moment Voldemort's door closed behind him. "He thinks he is so fucking great, all the time, doesn't he?"

Ashley nodded as she rested her elbow on the arm rest of the couch and her head in her hand. She sighed softly as she closed her eyes, too tired to even care anymore. She really could have used a nap and a hot shower. She had just been debating whether or not she wanted to go upstairs and do both or if she wanted to tell Shastel and their visitor about the details of the bedroom occurrences. She quickly decided that while a nap and a shower sounded more relaxing, things like that never paid off in the end, especially here. So, it was the details that won out in the end.

Just as she was moving in to tell Shastel about the backdoor options that she had no choice over, a loud crack filled the living room in which there was a tall blonde man. He was dressed in mostly black. The lining of his traveling cloak however was lined with silver and green. He carried a cane, the head of it shaped like the head of a snake, its mouth open wide as though ready to strike. Both girls groaned inwardly as the man straightened his robes and looked around the room with an exasperated sigh.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Ashley said aloud, her opinion being voiced before she thoroughly stopped to register the fact that she indeed had opened her mouth.

"Girls, you both remember Lucius Malfoy, correct?" Voldemort's voice made both girls jump, but barely enough for him to register the fact. Of course they knew Lucius Malfoy, the arrogant second in command to Voldie. He was here all the time, helping Voldemort with their various punishments and such for mouthing off and disobeying.

They looked to him like they did Voldemort, but it was easier to get away with making Lucius look like a fool over Voldemort. Much easier. He had been away from the house for some time but neither girl questioned his absence ever. The only thing they missed was the pleasure that they received when he was in agony and not them.

They both nodded, but Ashley still didn't like that he was here because it could only mean one thing... "Please tell me that he is here selling Girl Scout cookies or something and not for what I think he is here for..."

Lucius smirked and Shastel groaned. She had read Ashley's mind almost instantly.

Voldemort eyed Ashley with a hint of amusement in his face and wrung his fingers out in front of him. "I had warned you what would happen if you had stepped out of line my dear, but it seems that my punishments no longer work on you. I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I am assure Lucius here will take very good care at making sure you learn what you need to learn. You are becoming very brash indeed... so in the mean time."

He gestured Shastel to the bedroom. She grumbled lightly but did not protest. Part of her loved it, but it also disgusted her. She just didn't let him know about the first part. Voldemort followed her and gestured to Lucius and Ashley as he went to close the door.

"Mind him Ashley, will you?"

Ashley sat in her seat, unmoving, her eyes never leaving the now closed door. Her mouth dropped and it was still dropped when she turned back to look at the man still standing in the middle of the living room, but who was now removing his cloak to reveal a deep green satin shirt and black slacks. His hands moved deftly across the belt at his waist.

"Hell no, I am still sore from before, how is this right?" Ashley asked, abashed and more than pissed off at this point.

"Why do you even bother to question it anymore? Just do as you are told and don't bother buttoning up that top. It will be off in a few moments time..."

Ashley pushed herself back across the couch's cushions as she attempted to put some distance between Lucius and herself. It didn't work as he was easily hovering over her, his own shirt now draped over the arm chair with his cloak, the light blonde trail of hair that fell down his torso all her mind could focus on. That and the abs that she had forgotten were there. She would never admit it though that she kind of loved Lucius...

Damn Stockholm Syndrome.

_My dear reader, t__his would probably be as good a time as any to move away from the couch and possibly go get some fresh air. This room will be tainted in about 2.5 seconds and I don't think myself or you wish to be here when it does. When you return, I will be happy to continue the story if Ashley and Shastel are still being occupied and I say that with the deepest concerns for their well being._

_I promise, you will not be disappointed with what we have in store for you in the next segment, but for now, it's too hot in here and I really wish that I didn't have to __hear any of it, but unfortunately I am writing it. So until then, get some coffee, grab another book that does not have offensive material, and please wait with patience. We will resume shortly. _

Next: Chapter 1: Introducing Mr. Harry Potter


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